


Obi-Wan's Day of Rest

by Onehelluvapilot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Imagine that, Injury, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Post-Episode: s04e13 Escape From Kadavo, Zygerria, but then actually asking for help with medical issues, minor battle fatigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Another fic of the aftermath of Kadavo. This time, though, Obi-Wan actually asks for help.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 11
Kudos: 326





	Obi-Wan's Day of Rest

“Ahsoka, can I speak to you privately?” Obi-Wan asks his grand-padawan through the communicator. The Team has been given three days rest in the capital, which feels like a lifetime in the context of this neverending war and rapid deployment, after their mission in Zyggeria. Of course, it isn’t really rest. The padawan has been helping arrange transportation back to their planet for her people, the ones who were not killed in the slave mines, and to organize the inclusion of their planet into the Republic. Anakin directs clone battalions to destroy the rest of the slavers’ operations. Obi-Wan has been spending his time helping his former padawan and his grandpadawan, along with avoiding the Hall of Healing and the medical personnel. His recent acquiescence to care after the beating he received from N'Dar, necessary to be field-ready in time to assist with the rescue of the Togruta people, has somewhat helped his reputation for being notoriously hard to sheppard into the Hall of Healing. As such, he’s acquired some leniency from the healers, assisted by having changed into a clean and undamaged uniform by the time they saw him and by employing extra care in not letting anyone to see his moments of weakness. A personal protocol he was about to break rather seriously.

“Of course Master,” the teenage girl agreed. “Should I come to your chambers?”

“Yes, please,” Obi-Wan sighs in relief. He hadn’t, of course, been expecting her to say no, but he was relieved that she wasn’t busy at the moment. 

“I’ll be right there.” He wondered whether the sudden urgency was from something she had heard it in his voice or felt through the Force. Fear and pain welled up in his own body and he slumped forwards against his desk, head against his arms like an initiate sleeping in class. He desperately needed some real rest if he were to recover in time to be re-deployed, and he couldn’t get that in his current state.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at his door, and Obi-Wan forced himself to his feet and pulled a robe carefully around himself. He would have to let Ahsoka see his injuries eventually to gain her help, but if her first impression of his condition was one of such weaknesses that he couldn’t even answer the door, she would drag him straight off to the Hall of Healing and all of this would have been for nothing.

“Thank you for being here, Ahsoka. Come in,” he said, drawing her inside with one arm while the other holds his robe firmly closed. It was the only thing he wore on the upper half of his body. The padawan glanced quickly around the room, and he should have known he couldn’t keep secrets from her for long because her eyes instantly caught on the pile of medical supplies laid out on his desk.

“Master Kenobi, are you injured?” she asked with no preamble.

_ I was in a slave mine for more than a week. Of course I’m injured,  _ he wanted to say but held his tongue.  _ No-one escapes without wounds, even when the slavers claim they will hurt you only by hurting others. _

“Not badly,” he replied instead. It was a lie, and not a very convincing one, given Ahsoka’s suspicious expression. “Not enough to go to the Halls of Healing, anyway. They have their hands full with Togrutas worse off than I am. They don’t need me cluttering up the place.”

“But you do need help?” she asked. “That’s why you called me here.”

“Yes. And I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I suspect Anakin would not react well to this situation, nor to the knowledge that it was done by the slavers.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” the young Togruta agreed, face slipping into a frown. Obi-Wan knew she had seen the same things in her master as he had; the restlessness, the excessive use of force, the rage that would simmer beneath the surface even after victories. He watched as she shook off the thought of Anakin in favor of the present moment. Her resolve seemed to steel along with her back and her jaw. “What do you need me to do?”

“I’ve treated everything I can reach, but there are burns on my back that I cannot access,” the Jedi master admitted, turning around and letting the robe slip off his shoulders. Ahsoka gasped softly, and he wanted to, needed to apologize for showing her more of the violence the galaxy is capable of. “They aren’t deep, and will heal easily with a small amount of bacta gel.”

“You should sit down,” the padawan instructed, taking a deep breath to steady herself and pulling his chair out for him, and Obi-Wan obeyed. He leaned forward against his desk again to give her more room to work between his body and the back of the chair. “Stay still. I’ll be as fast and gentle as I can.”

The boundless energy of the padawan was seemingly replaced in an instant with cool efficiency when she slipped on a pair of disposable gloves. They were fit for larger hands than hers, and about an inch of dangling rubber was left at the end of each finger. They tickled against his back as she carefully spread bacta gel over the burnt gashes where the electric whips had cut through his clothes. She applied extra care to the blaster wound on his rear right shoulder where he had been shot during their first escape attempt. When she had finished applying the bacta, she wrapped his chest in bandages and even helped Obi-Wan back into his black compression underlayer. It hid most of the injuries, with the only things left visible the burn from the shock collar they had clamped around his neck and the scratches over his cheeks.

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” he breathed out when she had finished.

“Well, I can’t say it was my pleasure, but you’re welcome,” she replied. “If it hasn’t healed by the time we’re re-deployed, I’ll help you come up with an excuse as to why you aren’t going to be fighting.” There was a kind of firmness to her tone that hadn’t been present when she had entered the room and she employed the same kind of angry efficiency in stripping off her gloves and throwing them down into the trash bin as Obi-wan had seen many medics use before her.

“Believe me, if I don’t have to fight, I have no interest in doing so,” the Jedi sighed. He was tired of war. “I’m perfectly happy with a strategian’s role, as long as I can be doing  _ something _ .” That was the real reason he had avoided the Hall of Healing so adamantly; once those healers got their surgical clamps into him, they wouldn’t have let him go for ages. And after the helplessness of the mines, he needed to be out and doing something. “Thank you. For everything.” 

“Have a good night, Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka just replied with a little wave as she left his chambers.

“You too, Commander Tano,” Kenobi breathed once the doors had closed.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I love getting comments on my work. Thanks for reading!


End file.
